


A need your cheapest Renlig, please

by Bellelaide



Series: Junk Dilemmas #13 [5]
Category: Trainspotting (Movies), Trainspotting Series - Irvine Welsh
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-21
Updated: 2017-09-21
Packaged: 2019-01-03 20:43:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12154431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bellelaide/pseuds/Bellelaide
Summary: Simon and Mark navigate life together as adults - no drugs, no secrets and relatively no drama





	A need your cheapest Renlig, please

**Author's Note:**

> This is a lil celebration because the main pretty little junkies fic passed 3K hits and I’m so grateful! 
> 
> Here is how I imagine the terrible twosome trying to live together like adults.

Ad no fallen out wae him solely because ae the dishes, but... it wis 99% because ae the fuckin dishes. Am no a clean freak, no by any stretch, but we'd been living the gither for about 4 months and Simon's inability to clean up efter himsel was pushing me over the fuckin edge. 

Awch, it's no like a wasny aware ae his complete disregard fur other people, but a suppose a convinced masel that a loved him enough that it widny bother me - fuckin stupidly, a telt masel a'd no mind cleaning up after him cos even his dirty dishes were a part ae him n a wanted everything a could get, like the thirsty cunt a wis. 

Obviously it goes withoot sayin that the honeymoon period soon wore off n he wis back to noisin me up constantly. Livin wi Sick Boy was lit livin wi a 3 year old toddler than left everything he touched at his feet and expected it to magically vanish again. Don't get me wrong, av lived with him before, but a reckon when he wis on junk he wis too occupied to make the kindy mess he makes now. Either that or when a wis on it a was too occupied to gie a fuck. Takin shit off shelves n dumping it; leavin food and empty wrappers everywhere; socks and shoes; even a pile of fuckin fidget spinners he'd acquired and wis gonny sell on at the car boot sale. 

A wis sick ae tellin him. He eyewis shrugged it off n told me to relax, said he'd get it later, but he never did. He had this knack ae distracting me by acting aw loving n clingy and a was beginning to suspect it was all an act - he knew a wis weak when it came to him, n if he furrowed his brows a bit n tried to get on ma lap like a big dug a usually gave up tellin him to clean up his mess. There wis just suhin about havin him on top ae me, hands holding on absently to ma neck, ma clothes, n cuddling in that made me melt like a fuckin Disney sidekick. A wis pathetic. 

Last week a came home early morning from a late shift at Hector's House, where a'd been given free rein to put on a club night twice a week, to find the place fuckin boggin wae pizza boxes n dirty dishes n empty beer bottles. There were fuckin flies in the living room man, it was absolutely ganting - he'd had fuckin Spud round, another incapable man child, and had left the place a fuckin cowp. A saw red, too tired to put up wae this a second longer, and burst into the bedroom, flinging on the light and bellowing at um. 

"Get the fuck up and get they fuckin dishes done!!" A was shouting, takin out ma exhaustion on him but no even feelin guilty, no even at the way he popped up in bed, fear etched inty his face. 

"Mark? Wit the fuck? What time is - " 

"Get fuckin up Simon!! Am sick ae this!" 

He stumbled out the bed aw disorientated, hair aw aer just wearing his boxers, n squinted in the light (which was definitely a fuckin act because a'd made a point ae getting energy saving bulbs only n the cunts took about half an hour tae muster the light ae a fuckin match). 

"Mark, wit - wit are ye talkin about? Wit huv ye taken?" 

A rolled ma eyes n pointed in the direction ae the kitchen. "Are you fuckin joking me Simon? Look at the fucking state ae the place! Ye hink a enjoy comin in fae work to a fuckin midden? Dae ye hink a walk in the door, take a deep breath n go ahhh, three day old steak pie left overs, it's good to be fuckin home?!" A was shouting, quite loudly, but a wis so fuckin fed up ae it. Honestly, twenty year in the making fur us to be the gither, decades ae putting up wae the flaws in his character - a man literally known best as Sick Boy - n his cleanliness habits (or lack thereof) were wit was properly threatening any hope of a relationship we had at this moment in time. 

His face softened. "Aww Rents, am sorry - naw, am sorry, yer right, that's no nice to come hame to. A wis that tired, aw day at the pub n that -" he made to move toward me, putting an arm around ma waist, "here, mon, yer exhausted. Get intae bed - " 

A moved away from him quickly, putting space between us n hawdin out a hand. "Naw Simon, yer no manipulating me intae forgettin aboot this. Get them fuckin cleaned." 

He frowned n looked at his watch. "It's four in the morning. Al dae it the morra," he said, his voice a bit harder. 

"Will ye fuck. There's plates there fae Wednesday. A mean it, now!" 

"If a wanted to move back in wae ma maw ad huv done it years ago," he said, havin the cheek to shake his head. "Am away back tae sleep, fuck this." 

He started toward the bed, and a all but popped a vein. "Are you fucking kidding me?!" 

He looked at me from his side of the bed, eyebrows raised in shock at the hysterical tone of ma voice. "Jesus Mark, you okay? C'mere, ye need a blowy or suhin?" 

A took off ma coat n threw it on the floor, rage boiling inside me. "Ken wit, naw. See until every wan ae they dishes are done, and am no talkin rinsed under the cold tap, am talkin clean and dry and put away, am no layin a fuckin finger on you. We'll see how long ye last." 

"Aw come off it, am no a fuckin - dae ye hink am still 14? Dinny gie a fuck if ye dinny touch me. Also dinny gie a fuck if there are some dishes in the sink cos am no a clean freak." He scoffed, lying down again. 

"Aye, ok. We'll see. Sleep well ya dick," a mumbled childishly, stomping out ae our room n leaving the light on n door open just to be petty. A wis that tired a fell asleep on the couch no bother, even with half a congealing Domino's pizza inches from ma face. 

\----- 

When a woke up he was eating a bowl of Cheerios on the arm chair and staring at me, no even blinking, the creepy cunt. 

"Morning," he said with a mouthful of food, milk dripping down his chin. "Feelin better?" 

A chose to ignore him, pushing masel up and stretching out the kinks in ma back. A looked over to the kitchen and the dishes were still there, the food still piling up and making the place stink. A looked back at him, sat there in his chair quite the thing, no dressed with his legs crossed. A thought about how a loved him, how his personality was so rich and present and drove me wild. A was obsessed with it, with him - and his messiness was a part of that, sure. But a needed him to understand what cohabitation meant. A couldn't live with him if a was constantly pulling the weight ae both ae us. 

"Am away for a shower," a said, no wanting to hang around him for much longer. 

He put down his bowl and got up. "Al join ye," he said, n a stopped him. 

"A wisny jokin last night. Am no touchin ye, am no gon near ye until they dishes are done. A mean c'mon to fuck Si, ye've just left yer breakfast bowl there too! A undertand that yer maw waited on ye hand n foot but ye need to learn how to live like an adult." 

Simon stared at me, incredulous. A turned and went for ma shower, and when a got out, Simon wis gone. 

A couldny hang about in the flat n relax, which wis aw a wanted to do, thanks to the state ae the place. A eventually decided just to go to ma Ma's, where a had a cup ae tea n she made us a piece n egg, n we chatted for a while. She could tell suhin wis bothering us but a didny want to bring Si intae further disrepute with ma family - ma maw was already devastated ad decided to settle down wae a man, never mind a man wi the reputation ae Simon, so tellin her suhin like "he canny clean up eftir hisel" wis sure to push her over the edge. 

A telt her a wis just tired n stressed wi the new club nights, n she badgered on for ages about when she used to put on the Ann Summers parties n how that took more organising than ye'd think n bla bla bla. A was happy to let her talk cos it meant a didny need to say much, but a was ready to leave by the time dinner rolled around n a needed to get back up the road. 

A didny ken if Simon wid be home yet or no, and ma heart was beating a bit faster wonderin if ad push open this door to see the place shining lit a knew penny.

A wis disappointed but no surprised to walk into the flat and find that nothing had changed. Annoyance washed over me. A followed the sound of the TV to the living room, where he was lying back on the sofa watching some pishy prime time game show. 

"Marky!" He said softly when he spotted me, smiling n craning his head back. "S'appnin?" 

A shrugged n went to sit on the arm of the sofa, looking at him expectantly. "Still no dain the dishes, nut?" 

He sighed exaggeratedly. "Matter ae principal now. Wit ye wantin for dinner?" 

A shook ma head at him. "Unreal... nout. Am no wantin nout. Ate no long ago at ma Ma's." 

Simon nodded and turned around, back to the TV. A took a deep breath. "And am no sleepin on the couch again the night. You can." 

He didn't even turn around. "Dinny be fuckin ridiculous. Am no gon anywhere, it's you thats started aw this." 

A opened ma mouth to retaliate and closed it again, no up to fighting. A wisny workin the night, so we'd have to find some way to cohabit. A eventually moved to sit in the arm chair n watched his pishy show with him, checking ma phone periodically. He had a ready meal for his dinner, which he ate out the packaging, n a was fuckin starving masel but didny feel like making something in that hovel ae a kitchen n didny want to add to the dishes pile besides. A had a packet ae crisps n we watched Corrie n he looked at me wae sleepy eyes fae the big sofa n moved his head in a 'c'mere' way n all a could do was shake ma head in response, cos it wis too far gone now for me to back down. He'd never learn any discipline. 

"Geez one cuddle n al never ask for anything ever again," he asked me wae pouted lips, n a couldny help but smile fondly at um. 

"Why won't you just do it, Si?" 

"Am no ready. And am no a slave. Al do it when a decide," he said. It made ma blood boil. 

"Am away to bed." A replied, even though it was early still. "Canny stand sittin in this filth." 

"Our bed? Canny promise al no end up touching ye when am asleep," Simon said. 

"Al build a wall ae pillows. If ye do end up touching us in any way, conscious or no, ye've forfeited and a win. Al dump the dishes on your side of the bed, ye ken al do it." 

He sighed exasperatedly n waved me away. "Witever, Renton." 

A was half asleep when he joined me god knows how long later. A had lined some pillows up along the middle ae our bed, marking our sides. A felt so stupid doing it, like a fuckin child or some kind ae homophobe, but it was necessary - a couldn't back down on this. He slid under the covers n usually we'd drift toward each other, even if he typically only let himself go when he was asleep or tired enough not to care about letting me see how much he needed me (spoiler: a fuckin lot). 

\---- 

We went on like this, am ashamed to admit, for a good five days - sleeping wi our wall between us, the place getting dirtier, me eating elsewhere n him becoming more stubborn every day. 

A hud been at work, another late night, when a woke up on the sixth day to see um starin at us. It wis the look he eyewis hud when he wis too much in his own head. It happened occasionally - it was an expression he'd had back as long as ad kent um, n it had typically resulted in us doing something illegal when we were kids, then it'd progressed to being sexual when we were in our twenties, n these days it was usually him being a wee shit until a made love to him or made him greet or let him wind me up into a big argument so he could blow off some steam. A'd been waiting on it hitting, to be honest - a knew this was ma best chance at winning the current thing we had going on. Cunt was too stubborn otherwise. 

Anyway, there he wis, lying across from me n staring at me wae that expression in his eyes. A couldn't help but grin, mumbling "Here we go," under ma breath n sitting up slowly. A swung ma legs out my side ae the bed n rolled ma neck, stretched ma arms. A stood up n looked down at him. 

"Wit ye needin big man? Am more than happy to oblige. In fact, get they dishes oot ma fuckin throat n al no leave this room aw day. Say the words," a teased him, n he didny say anything, just looked at me wae that expression that said he knew everythin there wis to know about anythin on Earth n all a was wis puny n insignificant. "What ye -" 

“A canny mind wit yer like on the inside anymare,” he said without moving, n ma stomach flipped. “Are ye still a nice 37 degrees in there? Dae ye still feel like a flat pack bag made ae velvet?” 

A would’ve laughed, because what an image, was ma mouth no dry n the smile wiped off ma face. 

“C’mere n find out,” a breathed, forever unable to connect the dots between ma own free will n the thing that came ower me when he spoke to me wae that voice. “Just please, am fuckin beggin ye, wash up first.” 

He closed his eyes n rolled over. “No the day.” 

A knew that because ad made it a game, he’d no back down. A knew this would happen when it first came out ma fuckin mouth, and yet here we were. 

“Simon, serious question - do you even want to be wae me?” 

He must’ve been able to hear the emotion in ma voice because he turned around lightening fast, sitting up n glaring at me. 

“Is this you fishing fur compliments to rub balm on yer bruised fuckin ego?” He snapped. 

“Aye, wantin tae live in a clean home makes us a fuckin egomaniac right enough.” 

He blinked exasperatedly, his mouth moving silently around the words he couldny manage to articulate. He wis in the middle ae the bed, plonked in the middle ae the sheets lookin warm n soft even despite the storm gon on in his eyes. A wanted so badly to touch him. 

“A canny - a don’t - why can you no just dae them?!” He got out, clearly frustrated n angry. “How can that no be how it works?” 

“Because that’s no how adults behave. A love you, so fuckin - so bad, am obsessed, infatuated. They’ve no made up a word fur how a feel yet. But a canny understand this thing wae the dishes. Why, Si?” 

The hair on his body wis a stark contrast to the white bedsheets. He stared at his hands n mumbled suhin a didny quite catch, n a stopped him. “Speak up, please,” a urged, n he closed his eyes n let oot a breath. 

“A said ad never let anyone treat me how ma Da treat ma Maw.” 

A was speechless. “Si... in wit - in what respect? Coexisting?” 

“A dinny want to talk about it.” He grumbled, bottom lip jutting out. 

“A need you to speak about this Simon, it’s important! Am a making ye unhappy? Like yer Dad did?” 

He shook his head. “It’s more... she wis his fuckin skivvy. And am no one’s house wife.” He still couldny look at me. 

A could understand why he was thinking like this, even if a didny agree or think it was in any way rational. He wis still struggling to see things in a non binary way - he wis the type to ask a couple ae lesbians who wis the man in the relationship. It wis a logical step from that; to no understanding how to preserve his independence n even his much loved masculinity in a homosexual relationship ae his own. Even wae me, who’d grown up with him in a dynamic that had been largely shaped by his needs to keep him happy, he couldn’t place us n how he felt about me in a domestic setting. 

“You - Simon, you are not my skivvy. A do not perceive you as weak, or... or lesser than me. A just want you to clean up after yourself! No after me or anyone, just yourself. You’re your own person. You’re no yer Ma,” a said softly, but he wis covering his face n no really listening n a knew a wis fighting a losing battle. 

A pulled on ma clothes n grabbed ma phone. “Am going out the now. Al see ye in a few hours.” A said, no looking back at him. 

————

A didny expect Mark to get it. He’d no give a fuck if a asked him to start wearing a skirt n heels around the house, to scrub the floor wae his toothbrush - he’d probably fuckin enjoy it actually. But that wis the difference between us. He didny gie a fuck wit folk thought, probably because everyone had always thought he wis a fuckin weirdo anyway. Me though, a had a reputation tae protect. A hud harmed it enough by choosing to settle down wi the cunt, but becoming a house wife kept by a man - that widny be me. A couldny let it, make nae fuckin mistake. 

He wis lookin it me like a wis fuckin irrational but, which wis winding us up. He had also threatened me thit he widny touch us until a scrubbed the dishes which, ok, made me want to dae them, but equally made me never want to touch a piece ae fuckin cutlery again. He couldny bribe me like a fuckin wain, sick cunt. 

Except a wis gettin needier n needier n a only hud so much self restraint. A was thinkin, why should a suffer because Mark Renton wants me to change who a am for his own personal benefit? Why should a go wae blue balls because this ginger bastard canny stand a few dry rice crispies in the kitchen sink? 

A tried seducing him but it ended up wae me sat like a tit telling him a didny want to end up like ma Maw. Wit a fuckin disservice to an amazing woman, and all because Mark didny ken when enough wis enough. He walked out anyway n left us despite being well aware that a dinny like him dain that to us. Freaks us out man, cunts that flighty ye dinny ken when he’ll be back. 

A wis fuckin angry that he’d left me eftir opening up, n ma mind wis racing with things a could do to get under his skin, but mostly ma annoyance just made me horny. This was a problem because given we were tryin the whole monogamy thing, it needed to be Mark a got wae - n here he wis, depriving me like some kindy dug. A got out of bed, livid at him puttin me in this position, n stormed naked into the kitchen, screaming wae frustration at the sight ae the dishes. 

The time a wis halfway through cleanin them a remembered that it wisny actually that hard n actually quite therapeutic, but ad never admit that to Mark. A wis so ready to get ma hands on him actually, n a couldny stop thinkin ae wit a wis gonny do when he got back (if he ever did). A wis nursing a semi n a kept stopping wit a wis doing to have a few tugs - Mark need never know that ma hands had been aw aer ma bollocks n then straight over the nice glasses his maw bought us for movin in here the gither. 

When a heard his key in the lock a wis sittin on the bunker naked measurin ma dick against one ae the measuring jugs. He came in n paused when he realised the dishes were done, lookin at the sink n back at me. A could fuckin feel how much he wanted to tell me it wis unhygienic to sit on the kitchen counters naked but he shut his mouth cos he was at least learning when to pick his battles. 

“You’re no ever, ever gonny be anyone’s trophy wife, Simon,” he said, swinging the door shut behind him. “You’re no ever gonny be pushed around by me or anyone. Am no yer faither.” 

A appreciated what he was saying, a did, but ad no stood here n slaved aer the sink fur a heart to heart. A put the jug down n raised ma eyebrows, spreadin ma legs a bit incase it wisny already glaringly obvious wit he should be doin. He didny waste anymare time, didny even take his jacket aff, just came right ower n kissed us on the lips n then made a beeline for ma dick which, thank fuck, but then stopped. 

“Mark, suck ma fuckin dick before am ninety-six would ye?!” A commanded him, n he laughed. 

“Av just been to Ikea. Someone’s gonny come n fit a dishwasher the morra.” Then he finally set about doin wit he wis, in ma opinion, born to do. He wis an annoyin, pernickety, know it all bastard, that’s for fuckin sure, but fuck me did a love him.


End file.
